Hello people, I know it's been a while, but here we go! A brand new set for you guys to enjoy, this time not about dominance (well, not too much) or sex (well, questionable) but about the fabulous Criminal Minds :D. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. This is
Tea is good for the soul. Tea is soothing. Tea eases pain. These were all the 'facts' he'd read in multiple books. Whether or not they were true would take an experiment. Luckily, the kettle had just finished boiling.
Dr. Spencer Reid rested himself down upon the sofa in his apartment, taking his mug of tea in one hand and 'The Fall of the Roman Republic' in the other. Glancing at the digital clock on the wall, he noted that it was 11.04AM before turning back to his book and leafing through the 'Life of Caesar'. He quickly lost track of his actions, too focused on the writings of Plutarch to notice how hard he was swirling the contents of his cup. Just as he turned the page to witness the death of Caesar the mug tipped too far and hot green tea splattered itself across the front of his jumper.
"Damn!" he exclaimed, slamming the half empty mug down upon the glass coffee table in front of him. Ripping the jumper off, he flung it to the corner of the room, cursing mentally at his clumsiness. There was a moment of silence then for Dr Reid as he stared vacantly at the wooden flooring that covered his flat. Slowly, he placed his book, words down, on the table and lay back on the sofa. Staring up at the swirling ceiling he let out a much needed sigh. It'd been four weeks since he'd killed a man. Since he'd been freed from…no. It wasn't even worth thinking about anymore. Stress was winning, taking his mind to areas he didn't even like to think about, things he thought he'd locked away.
Running his hands through his freshly cut hair, Reid brought himself back up to a sitting position, elbows rested on his knees.
He remembered earlier on that day when he had his final conversation with Morgan, someone he considered to be his best friend, perhaps his only true friend. Unfortunately, their previous meeting had not been their best.
~
Reid wanted to stay at work, he was fine. But of course, pleading with Hotchner was like trying to move a brick wall by running at it, and his boss refused to let him stay. Three months 'illness'.
A numbing sensation had spread over Reid's body, like he was no longer involved. As if his brain was shutting down. A hand slapped down on his shoulder, supposedly comforting but a little too hard for Reid's nerves to take, and he flinched slightly under the palm. Turning his head, Morgan's kind face smiled back at him, reassuring him that everything was fine.
"I can stay Morgan, tell him. I'm perfectly fine. Mind over matter," Reid said, barely blinking whilst staring vacantly at Morgan.
"Reid, I know you don't wanna hear this but I think it's for the best. You could use some time off, man. You never go sick, in fact, you never take any days off, and I bet you got hundreds of hours of unpaid holiday to use up!" Morgan chuckled. His humour was slightly lost on Reid, who frowned slightly and folded his arms across his patterned sweater, leaning backwards against his desk.
"Morgan, you know me better than anyo-," he began.
"That's the problem Reid, I barely know anything about you. How do I know that the stress wouldn't get to you? And you'd do something stupid?" Morgan interrupted, placing a hand on Reid's shoulder again, a smile of concern gracing his lips.
Reid stared at Morgan for a moment, his eyes burning with unreleased tears, before he pushed himself off the desk and shed his colleague's hand from his shoulder. He turned and grabbed his messenger bag, shoving his phone deep into his pocket and beginning to walk from the office. Morgan's protests went unheard behind Reid and the Doctor strode out of the door, slamming it behind him.
A new empty feeling washed over Reid, knowing his friends wanted him gone. He was fine, wasn't he? There was the odd slip up, but seriously? Serial killers seemed saner than real life at the moment.
Opening his eyes, Reid rested back into the sofa and looked down at the spoilt jumper that lay crumpled in a heap on the floor. He got to his feet, grabbing the mug and heading into the kitchen.
On the counter sat the two bottles.
Two bottles of Dilaudid, pre-mixed with sterile water.
Reid sighed deeply, picking up one of the bottles and examining the texture of the glass.
"I can't go on like this, this is not at all healthy," he muttered, placing the bottle back on the top and leaning down to look through the glass at the rest of the kitchen. "You cannot let this take you over Reid. Mind over matter. Mind over matter mindovermattermindovermatter."
He began repeating his mantra to himself as flashes of Tobias Hankel flitted through his mind. Shutting his eyes and still whispering his chant, he opened the drawer below the bottles and plucked the hypodermic needle from the inside. Placing it carefully on the counter, the Doctor repeated the actions he had grown to know so well over the past few weeks. Elastic band. Pump up the veins. Fill needle. Ready to shoot. Push down on the plunger. Amen Spencer, Amen.
He'd read Trainspotting, he'd watched the programmes, and he'd convinced himself he was only curious. But after the torture, after Hankel, Reid came to terms with the fact he was addicted. Came to terms, but did not stop. It was not as if Spencer Reid had anything else in his life. Drugs and murderers. Murderers and drugs. His existence was empty.
And now, with his job temporarily removed, the painkillers were all that was left. Raphael left his mark physically on the young agent; the scars on his neck and body proved that. But mentally? Mentally, Reid was truly damaged and this was the only way to cope.
With a head full of numb happiness, he returned to the lounge where he bent, picked up the jumper and moved into his bedroom. Spinning around in a daze, Reid fell backwards onto the mattress, bouncing slightly as he hit the pillows. Folding his hands upon his chest, Spencer closed his eyes and began to drift to sleep.
There's only one bullet in that gun, boy.
"Stop it please. Please. Please," Reid began to chant.
I'm Raphael. A banging startled him awake and his eyes flew open. This was it. The dead angel had come back for him. The knocking continued and the young man realised he must be imagining it; this was merely his mind- finally going mad. He needed more Dilaudid. Now.
Reid jumped from the bed and took to his heels, sprinting for the kitchen. Running through the hall, he tore a strip from his shirt and forced it around his bicep. He tightened it with his teeth and began pumping his fist as he entered the room. Grabbing the needle from the side of the cabinet, Reid loaded up another shot and forced it into his arm. He repeated the injection process three times, trying to stop the knocking sound, trying to stop the dead man from entering his house.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
Reid felt a frozen sensation spreading over his skin as he crawled into the corner of his kitchen, knees scooped up to his chest, tears rolling down his face. The banging continued to pound until a splintering sound resonated throughout the apartment. A whimper escaped Reid's mouth, but soon enough the frozen feeling had spread up around his chest, immobilizing him. Spencer tried to draw in a breath but his lungs seemed to refuse it. For a moment he struggled to claim the much-needed breath of air, until he realised that his actions earlier had most probably sealed his fate tonight.
The banging had ceased and as Reid's vision began to fade, a shadowy figure moved into his line of sight. He let out a final wheezy scream, as his muscles went limp and he slumped against the side of the cabinet. Everything went silent for the Doctor then.
The needle was still sticking out of him arm when Morgan entered the kitchen.
"Reid, I've been knocking on that door for fucking ages, why didn't you- oh god," the burly agent stopped in his tracks, seeing his friend sprawled on the floor. For a moment, he thought Reid had been murdered, until he saw what was still plugged into Reid's veins. Morgan rushed to his friend and dropped to his knees, starting to sweat in a panic.
"C'mon man…" he whispered, carefully pulling the needle out of Reid and placing it on the side. He flipped open his cell and dialled the emergency services. There was nothing more he could do for Reid until they arrived, so he sat next to his friend and wrapped an arm around his hunched shoulders, propping his frail body against his own.
Morgan had always thought of Reid as his younger brother, someone to look out for- and he had never expected this of him.
Drugs?
Reid?
Seriously?
Morgan shook his head and tightened his grip around his friend, staring down at Spencer's arms. He hadn't noticed how thin his friend had gotten lately. How could he have missed this? Nobody really took noticed of Spencer; they just seemed to tell him to shut up all the time. Yeah, he did ramble but still…he was their friend. Morgan felt a pang of guilt wash through him as he remembered watching Tobias Hankel on the screen in Garcia's office weeks ago. That man was an infection; he'd given Reid this addiction and now look at him. They should have noticed something. But he seemed so indestructible, the power of his mind seemed daunting to Morgan, something that was unbreakable. But here he was.
Overdosing on painkillers.
"Hello?" a voice rang through the house. A blue light flickered on and off through Reid's kitchen, highlighting the ambulance that was now parked outside.
"In here Doc," Morgan called, getting to his knees. He wrapped an arm around Reid's back and under his knees, picking him up easily as he got to his feet. "Oh Reid, man. Why did you do this?"
"Is this him?" a voice said from the doorway. Two men wearing navy jackets stood holding cases in front of him.
"Yeah, Doctor Spencer Reid. I think this was the cause," Morgan said, jerking his head towards the bottles on the side.
"Put him down, please."
Morgan placed his fragile friend down on the floor and stepped back as the two men began to work on Reid. He stepped back, leaning against the doorway as the men started to load Reid onto a stretcher. One man began talking to the other about activated charcoal and Narcan and things that almost flew over Morgan's head. This was all too much. Reid was such an innocent, he could barely make himself a cup of coffee, how could he bring himself to overdose? Or…maybe he'd wanted to? With Reid these things were never accidents.
Morgan would have to wait until his friends recovered, until then he would have to keep guessing. As the men took Reid's limp body downstairs and towards the ambulance, Morgan followed them and clambered into the back of the large, flashing van with them.
The burly agent sighed deeply as the two men began hooking Reid up to machines and tubes and the ambulance began to move. Poor guy, he looked so frail, so fragile, how could Hankel even think to hurt him, he was barely even in his twenties?
Morgan looked down at his ashen face and noted his sunken cheekbones and heavily shadowed eyes, before picking up his phone and dialling for Gideon.
"Morgan? What the hell are you doing calling me at this hour?" answered the elder agent, sounding as if he had just woken up.
"Heya Gideon, I got some bad news for you."
"What's happened?" Gideon replied, his tone changed suddenly to far more efficient and a lot more concerned.
"I couldn't sleep 'cos of the way Reid acted when he left earlier and he's always up late anyways, so I thought I'd go over to-"
"Cut to the chase Morgan."
"Reid's overdosed on Dilaudid, I'm in the ambulance with him now on the way to the hospital."
The phone line went silent for a moment, until Gideon finally spoke. "I'm on my way."